Between the Shadow and the Soul
by SouthSideStory
Summary: I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. (Reylo drabble collection)
1. Used

**Used**

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He knocks twice, then waits in the darkness of the corridor outside Rey's room. She answers quickly enough, eager to get him inside and out of sight. It bothers him that she's so secretive where he's concerned, that she's ashamed to be fucking him, but Kylo wants her too badly to let pride get in the way of this affair.

As soon as the door is locked behind him, Rey kisses his neck, tugs at the fastenings of his dark clothes, her hands greedy and grasping. Once he's naked enough she pushes him to the bed, climbs on top of him, and rides him roughly. He can't get enough of the sight of her, those long legs straddling his hips, muscular and sweat-slicked; her small breasts bouncing as she takes her pleasure; the way she throws her head back when she's close to climaxing, moonlight illuminating the sweet line of her graceful throat. He works his fingers on her sex, rubbing rapid circles until she shouts into the shadows, some wordless cry of fulfillment—but not his name. Never his name.

He lets himself come then, but as soon as it's over, Kylo is reminded of what this is between himself and Rey. And more importantly, what it's not.

She goes to her 'fresher to wash up, then returns a moment later wearing a short robe. Rey picks his clothes up off the floor and dumps them unceremoniously on the rumpled bed next to him.

"Subtle," he says dryly.

Rey rolls her eyes. "I don't have time to play games with you, Kylo. I leave for a mission with Finn and Poe in the morning, and I need to sleep."

He stands, starts to dress, his movements sharp and angry.

"Well then maybe I won't have time to fuck you the next time you have an itch that needs scratching," he warns, too hurt to weigh his words wisely. (Besides, it's all bluster; he wishes he had the strength to resist her out of spite, but he doesn't.)

Rey smirks at him and says, "We'll see."

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 **Author's Notes:** I'll be collecting my Reylo drabbles here! These pieces will be of various rating, length, and genre.

The title and summary are from Pablo Neruda's 100 Love Sonnets.


	2. Bartering

**Bartering**

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 **Warning:** This drabble includes non-graphic descriptions of forced sex work. Although no rape is depicted directly, it is implied.

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The slave boy can't be more than twenty. He has the look of a young man who hasn't yet grown into his body—tall and broad-shouldered but gangly, with a nose too large for his narrow face and prominent ears he's trying to hide under a mop of dark hair.

Rey sips her water and attempts to ignore him. It's difficult, though, because he keeps staring at her.

This bolthole of a cantina on Tatooine makes Niima Outpost look like a cultured oasis, and she wonders how this boy ended up here. He's currently being dandled in the lap of a silver-haired man with wandering hands, while nursing a cup of something he's barely old enough to be drinking.

Rey makes herself look away, but she can still feel his gaze on her. Maybe he's just scouting out his next patron; if so, he's wasting his time.

The boy disappears into a back room with the silver-haired man, and Rey can't help but wonder how much choice he has in the matter.

 _It isn't my place to intervene_ , she tells herself. Rey has been upbraided by the council on more than one occasion for sticking her nose where it doesn't belong. She's only on Tatooine for the night, and after she meets her contact, she's supposed to report directly to Master Luke with whatever new information she gathers.

The boy returns just as Rey finishes her meal. It doesn't surprise her when he claims the seat to her left. "I'm Ben," he says. "Who are you?"

A fresh love bite colors his throat, red and angry, and he smells like sex. Ben's master has dressed him in little enough—tight fitting tan pants with no shirt at all—and now that he's closer she can see the marks on his body. Bruises on his wrists, like faded blue shackles, and scratch marks that mar the plane of his pale chest.

Instead of answering, Rey asks, "How old are you?"

"Old enough," he says, smiling. But there's something empty in his grin, a counterfeit cheer that makes her stomach turn uncomfortably.

"Listen, I don't mean to be rude, but I'm not looking for… companionship," Rey says gently.

"Really?" he asks, an unbearable knowledge in his dark eyes. "Because you seem lonely."

"Oh? And you could tell this from looking at me?" Rey asks, bristling. She fidgets with her cup, just to have something to do with her hands.

Ben leans closer, until she can smell the liquor on his breath when he speaks. "It's my business to know loneliness on sight."

Rey feels herself blush. "I've taken vows," she says plainly.

He shrugs, smirking. "Husbands and wives take vows, too. Doesn't stop them from visiting me."

Ben touches her wrist, his thumb tracing a slow circle over her pulse point.

 _He has beautiful hands_.

Before she can pull away, Rey feels a sharp pain behind her eyes, and suddenly she's seeing flashes of her own life, old memories overlaying the present. She's sitting here, in this dirty Tatooine cantina—but she's also five years old, crying herself to sleep, alone and hungry and afraid; now she's seven, marking off another day on the wall of the toppled AT-AT that serves as her home, wishing someone would come back for her; and then Master Luke arrives on Jakku and tells her that she, a scrawny scavenger child, is strong in the ways of the Force, and that she'll be coming with him.

Rey rips her hand away from the boy. She's shaking, and a throbbing pain, like a dull headache, lingers at her temples.

"I'm sorry," Ben says, and she can hear the panic in his breaking voice. "I didn't mean to do that. Sometimes, when I'm curious about someone, it just—it just happens—"

She's unnerved and a little startled, because never, in her nineteen years among the Jedi, has Rey known anyone to use the Force this way.

"What else can you do?" she asks.

"Nothing," he says quickly, but it's an obvious lie. Everything Ben feels shows so plainly on his expressive face.

"It's all right," Rey says. "You shouldn't be ashamed of it, or frightened by it."

"I'm not scared," Ben says forcefully, but that's a lie too. He's scared all the time, she'd wager.

He's too old for the council to consider taking him in and training him as a Jedi. They'd been hesitant to accept her, and she was only ten when Luke found her on Jakku. But she can't leave him—this clever, charming young man who's been marked for great things—to rot here on a backwater planet, enslaved and used.

And Rey knows, suddenly and surely, that no matter the consequences she'll face for it, this boy is going to become her student.

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 **Notes:** I'm trash for Jedi-teacher!Rey and apprentice!Ben, so although this little drabble is a standalone for now, I reserve the right to return to this universe if inspiration strikes. Many thanks to Next To Something for editing this tiny fic ages ago. You're the best beta I could dream up!


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